


Take Me There

by knockoutqueenoftheunderworld



Category: Nancy Drew (Video Games)
Genre: Deirdre is a bi iconTM, F/F, Getting Together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-24
Updated: 2018-10-24
Packaged: 2019-08-06 17:46:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16392221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knockoutqueenoftheunderworld/pseuds/knockoutqueenoftheunderworld
Summary: George is a damsel. She’s in distress.Deirdre can handle this.





	Take Me There

**Author's Note:**

> i originally planned an elaborate story with a mystery and a culprit and an interesting setting... and then that all went out the window when I realized this was the only scene I was interested in writing haha.

George wasn’t gagged, and Deirdre could hear her sigh across the space despite the muffled echo of the music coming from the club in the other room. “What are you doing here?” George asked, voice hoarse.

“Saving your ass, obviously,” Deirdre replied, not allowing an ounce of the overwhelming relief to seep into her tone. 

She edged her way around and over boxes of headphones, heavy speakers, bags of garbage, and other abandoned junk, using her phone flashlight to pick her way through. The single flickering bulb dangling from the ceiling emitted a faint dim glow that left much to be desired. “What did you  _ do? _ ” Deirdre demanded when she finally reached George and could survey the damage; her left eye blacked, a trickle of blood from her mouth, hands and legs tied to the chair. 

“Tried to uncover their operation,” George said, shifting as best she could in her binds. Deirdre tucked her phone into the top of her bra, flashlight peeking over the collar of her blouse.

“You think you’re so strong and big and tough,” Deirdre snarked, slipping her bag into the crook of her arm. She subtly caressed her fingers over the defined, taut muscles of George’s arm as she examined the sloppy knots in the rope binding her wrists. “It’s adorable.”

“Say that again when I’m not tied up,” George threatened, but her heart wasn't in it.

“Oh, I never said I didn’t like it.” Deirdre realized too late that she'd said that out loud. She promptly shut her mouth.

Thankfully, and also to her terror, George didn’t say anything. No retort, no disgust, no question, not a single response. Deirdre’s anxious fingers pulled at the knots until the ones at George’s wrists came loose. The base from the club vibrated between them as she dropped to her knees to work on George’s legs. She felt George’s eyes on her with every move.

Deirdre couldn’t deal with the lull in the conversation. “These leggings are designer, you know.” Her voice came out softer than she liked. “And now they’ve been on a dirty club floor and I’ll have to get them dry cleaned.” She was going for irritated, but somehow the words took on a sound of their own, low and shy. The ropes fell away from George’s long, lean legs. Had George’s legs always been this long?

“What do you mean you like it?” George spoke finally as Deirdre contemplated this existential question about said woman’s legs.

Deirdre stood, retreating a few feet away. “Uh, just that it’s  _ hilarious  _ that you think you’re so…”

“So what?” George prodded, standing and rubbing her wrists. There was something in her eyes, or maybe it was the light, and maybe it was the music blasting just outside that was making Deirdre’s heart pick up speed. George took a step in her direction.

“Strong,” Deirdre snapped. She maneuvered over a box of CDs, around four plush grey pillows, clipped her ankle on the corner of a broken shelving unit.

“Big. Tough,” Deirdre went on. Deirdre's phone light still shone from above her left breast, illuminating her path. George followed her closely, watching where Deirdre placed her feet, breath ruffling Deirdre's hair. 

“You said it was hilarious,” George said when they finally cleared the mountains of trash. Something thundered loud in Deirdre’s ears and she folded her arms over her chest. 

“And?”

George rolled her eyes but stepped closer. “ _ And _ you’re not laughing,” she replied, the smallest hint of mirth on her face. 

Deirdre turned the words over in her head, regret and panic seesawing in her veins. “It was just something I said, it's not a big deal, let's just go,” she continued, but even as she finished George just stared into her face, as though searching for something. 

And then George seemed to come to a decision; she rolled her eyes, pivoted, stepped forward as if to open the door and-

“I--I was worried about you, okay?” Deirdre snapped. George was on her in an instant, and her arms went around Deirdre, and George pulled her into an impressively smooth liplock. 

George needed to invest in a good chapstick, and the kiss was soured by the taste of blood from George’s split lip, but Deirdre was renowned for her enthusiasm. She grabbed George’s waist, pressing their hips together as her tongue found its way into George’s mouth. George’s back hit the wall and she grunted into Deirdre’s mouth, her hands settling at the small of Deirdre’s back. Deirdre crept her fingers up George’s sides, marveling at George’s full-body shudders when she touched her ribcage. George pulled her closer, her leg between Deirdre’s.

God, Deirdre just wanted to take George out on the dance floor and grind like horny teenagers at prom.

She broke her mouth away, giving George one of her best smirks. “You know, there’s a case to solve, Fayne, you can’t just attack me in a nightclub.” Her swagger was back, with a vengeance. Her hands remained firmly attached George’s sides.

“You think you’re so strong and big and tough,” George teased. “Let’s get out of here.”

**Author's Note:**

> that feels like an ending?


End file.
